Repartee Tea Party
by Kelly1
Summary: Set during "Aces and Eights," John and Remy meet/smarm off in a bar in Genosha. In the words of some famous dead guy: "It's better to be a witty fool than a foolish wit." You decide who's who. So much banter poorly disguised as fic.


**Title: **Repartee Tea Party**  
Author:** kelly1_watxm**  
Characters:** John Allerdyce (Pyro), Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Seamus Melloncamp (Melloncamp), Cessily Kincaid (Mercury). **  
Mentions:** Magneto, Polaris, Scarlett Witch, Boom Boom  
**Disclaimer:** Marvel owns  
**Summary:** Set during "Aces and Eights," John and Remy meet/smarm off in a bar in Genosha. In the words of some famous dead guy "It's better to be a witty fool than a foolish wit." You decide who's who. SOMUCH banter poorly disguised as fic. :) [For Off-Season Fic-off #4, tenuously connected to prompt 1: What if? What if Magneto let John out of metal sphere o doom after he closed the borders of Genosha]

**A/N:** Since their Acolyte-y togetherness on Evo, I've been pretty keen on the awesome that is John and Remy good-natured snark. You know those friends you have that just go back and forth with each other? That's what I imagine these two are. I think they d get along so well. I've wanted to write fic for them in this verse for awhile, but I've been stuck. Thankfully, lithiumaddict asploded my writer's block and allowed me to get to the creamy plot-I've been-imagining centre. FOR!SCIENCE  
**A/N 2:** I don't write Remy often. Clearly. :: apologizes in advance for the inevitable character/dialogue massacre ::

________

"Did I miss anything?" Seamus slid into the booth with a pitcher, joining Genosha's finest security unit. This bar had the sense to locate their patio out back, which meant that they were safe from the prying eyes of other members. They had very important business to attend to, and someone like Senyaka seeing them could ruin everything, what with his fancy ideals of work ethic and management and achieving. Disgraceful.

Cessily tipped her glass helpfully as he poured, grinning. "Nah, John's still _warming up._"

"I warned you about the awful puns, Cess." John stuck his tongue out at her from across the table as Seamus filled his pint, flagrantly disregarding head. "Do you want me to ban you from using the language? I don't think you realize how deep my connections in the English world go. Webster, Oxford, Rogets, Allerdyce. You wouldn't know clever wordplay if it... uh...was...clever."

"Ooo, somebody call a _fire_ truck; you just got _burned_, Kincaid."

"I hate you both so very much." John quirked his lips in his familiar shit-eating grin, raising the glass before taking a sip. "To drinking on the job."

"May we never get caught." Cessily threw a twenty down on the table. "So, two to one that the noob takes Allerdyce by an eight smarm spread, Melloncamp. Prison's clearly made him rusty. Interested?"

"You're on. I'd like to see this guy get his come-uppance after the little show this morning. John won't let me down."

Security detail for Genosha involved a lot of posturing and looking busy when Magneto was around, and a lot of minesweeper and dullness when he wasn't. They often needed something to help fill the tedious twelve hour shifts. One of their favourite pastimes was 'Repartee Tea Party'. John had come up with both the name and the concept, though it didn't really rhyme unless you said it with a distinctive Aussie enunciation, and beer was usually... well, always, substituted for tea.

Every so often, some cocky new arrival would try to assert themselves by being snarky with the badges. That was where John came in. It was often much more effective to beat them at their own game, not to mention entertaining. Cessily and Seamus had devised an elaborate points system, though, to be honest, the categories were weighted quite heavily in John's favour. They made a decision at the end, based on quality, quantity, and style of smarm, whether they detained or let the newbie off with a warning. Often, Cessily and Seamus made side bets using the finer categories of the rubric.

They were celebrating John's freedom and return to the job – Magneto had decided that he'd served enough time for the egregious transgression of daring to talk to his darling daughter – with a fresh round of the RTP. Seamus had been almost giddy on the two-way radio. The ideal candidate had strolled right up to the palace this morning. Cessily had been stuck with 'The Green Death,' a.k.a. tailing Lorna to make sure the little princess didn't get into trouble when she snuck out of the palace, when she'd noticed their very special guest slipping out one of the windows. She'd followed him to a nearby pub. Everything was aligning to create the perfect banter storm.

"That guy's got nothing." Seamus frowned disapprovingly.

They not so unobviously shifted to watch the man shamelessly flirting with the pretty blonde bartender. Cessily bit her lip. "Well, I wouldn't say he has _nothing_."

"I'm sculling this and going over before you start air-grabbing his arse." John rolled his eyes.

"But it's so firm and encased in spandex. Look at it!"

Seamus groaned. "Ugh, now I can't _not_ look at it."

"You're welcome." Cessily grinned wickedly. "Mmm, I would hit that like an MRD officer who's out of bullets."

John nearly spit out his beer. "You're quite the starry-eyed romantic, aren't you, sweet?"

"Listen, Allerdyce, I'd love to have all that we're-so-freaking-adorable-together crap you and Tabby do, but I haven't found the right person yet. And I happen to be willing to have a lot of casual sex with strangers until I do."

"It's actually very Cinderella. I always expected 'glass slipper' was a euphemism." John took a final swig, setting the empty beer on the table. "Alright kids, time to get this party started." He cracked his neck to either side, double checked that his radio was set to transmit and not receive on Cessily and Seamus' channel, and strolled across the bar.

"Hey, can I buy you a pint?" Red on black eyed him curiously as John hopped up onto the adjacent stool.

"I am flattered, of course, but generally my type is not so...flamin'." Remy smirked and made a dismissive gesture to the man's costume. He took a mouthful of his whiskey, all too aware that the table in the corner had been watching him for the past fifteen minutes. It hadn't escaped him that one of the members there had also been a part of Magneto's palace guards this morning.

"Says the man wearing magenta. Those in glass houses..." If the target refused to engage, Tea Party rules stated automatic detainment. But John had been in prison for months; he was aching to do this. "Come on, one beer's not going to hurt you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw the reptile and the redhead hesitate as they rose from their seats. "I am skeptical of your motives, homme, but tempted by th' alcohol. Goin' to go with a reluctant 'yes.'" They sat back down. Noted.

"Excellent." John made a motion across the bar for two more beers. "Name's John Allerdyce. Pyro's what they'll put on the inevitable trading card series and action figures though--now with lifelike kung-fu grip."

"Remy LeBeau. Pleasure, mon ami." Ten feet away, John was losing the 'Most Ridiculous Accent' category on the scorecard. The waitress set the drinks down in front of the two men, smiling shyly at Remy. He grinned devastatingly and she turned red.

"There you go, sweet." John tipped her a five and winked. She blushed deeper, Remy scowling at him. When flat-scanners met, they had a tendency to introduce themselves with job titles. Of course, Genosha wasn't nearly so mundane. John took a sip of his drink as she walked away. "Now, I know it's subtle, Remy, but you seem like pretty sharp fellow. You may have figured out that my powers have to do with fire."

"I would not have guessed. I was thinkin' telepathy." Remy extracted his deck from his pocket as a precaution and set it on the bar. "Because what is more threatenin' than a telepath? A telepath wit' flame throwers, non?"

"Any power with flame throwers, really."

"That would be a unique marketin' campaign for the manufacturers."

"They're clearly missing out on a whole demographic." John waved his hands with a flourish, miming a faux banner unfurling in front of his face. "'Free nitrogen-fill with proof of X-Gene.'"

Remy slid the highball glass down the bar and picked up the free beer. "A deal like that might make me look into replacin' my cards."

"So your mutantcy is what, exactly? Mortal wound inducing paper cuts? Distraction via poorly executed sleight of hand?" John reached over and drew the Queen of Spades from the top of the deck. "Old Maid to the death?"

Remy genuinely grinned, relaxing for the first time. For the law, John was pretty alright. "Never Ol' Maid--ain' nothin' more tragic than a lonely fille. I charge things with kinetic energy." He tapped the card in John's fingers, causing it to ever so slightly pop. John jumped a mile and Remy laughed. "Leads to some admirable destruction."

"I've been known to cause a little property damage in my day." John produced his Zippo, forming the flame into a tiny burning MRD facility. "Nothing wrong with that. Especially if the other guy deserves it."

Gambit leaned back lazily. "Or th' price is right."

"Cheers to that." They clinked glasses. "So, what do you go by then, Remy? Unfortunately for you, I know for a fact _Boom Boom_'s already taken."

"Gambit is th' official name."

"But 'Gambit' means..." John frowned. "Oh, I see. You just opened up your dictionary and picked a word at random. You could've easily been _Australopithecus_ or _Mayonnaise_ or something, right?"

"Some of us know th' value of a bit more finesse and mystery, Fire Starter."

"Pyro."

"Of course. Sometimes it is better to not lay all your cards on the table, yes?"

"Oh, I'd never accuse you of that." John snatched the deck from the bar top before Remy could react, shuffling idly and grinning. "So, Mayonnaise, my nosey sense is tingling. What brings you to Genosha?"

Remy let the card taking slide; they were playing John's game. He just wasn't entirely sure what it was yet. "Business. Though I would not be averse to dabblin' in some of th' pleasures your fine nation has to offer." Remy had a good chance of getting the bartender's number before John had shown up. Though the look his red-headed friend was shooting him was promising. Too bad she was a cop. But that _did_ mean readily accessible handcuffs...

John snorted. "As a heads up, Magneto's not too keen on anyone 'dabbling' his daughters. What's your poison? Lorna or Wanda?" It was one of the great locker room debates on the security force. They had flowcharts and everything.

"If you are making me choose, goin' to go... Lorna." Remy usually enjoyed a challenge, but Wanda was a terrifying danger to his privates. And he liked his privates.

"Ah, I see you've discovered our unofficial motto: Genosha -- come for the dictatorship, stay for the jailbait."

"I take it that you have initiated friendly fire in th' green forest, m'sieur?"

"Oh no, mate, I'm not suicidal. Hell, I _talked_ to her for two minutes and ended up in the clink." John was still a bit cross over that. Of course, he'd still gotten paid. And actually had time to work on his book. And gotten conjugal visits with Tabs. Why was he mad again?

"Hrm."

"What?"

"Nothin'." Remy was starting to doubt his plan for twilight. Of course, the infrastructure of Genosha wasn't going to explode itself. "I did not think Australians actually said 'mate.'"

"Slips out occasionally, much to my chagrin. The girlfriend never forgets to take the piss out of me for it." Tabby loved to tease him for his Ozisms. She'd gone so far the one day as to edit a copy of his draft manuscript. His carefully crafted dystopian future society which paralleled the governmental regime of Genosha had become Wallabies at Wollongong. With a boomerang wielding protagonist. Who put 'mate' inexplicably at the end of every sentence. And liked to throw shrimp onto a barbecue. Though John supposed he deserved it for constantly editing her grammar in the notes she scribbled for him on their fridge white board. It wasn't his fault. The English major in him demanded he put in possessive apostrophes when they were missing. "I imagine you get a similar reaction when you say something distinctly 'N'awlins.'"

The awkwardness of meshed accents made Gambit shutter. "Remy will buy you another drink if you promise you will not attempt to do that again, homme."

"Wait, did you just refer to yourself in the third-person semi-omniscient?"

"Cannot say I blame your girl. That sentence did not even make sense."

"Oh yes, you're quite the authority on not butchering the English language." John laughed to himself. "God, your dialogue would be absolutely fecking impossible to write. You're even worse than the German X-Man."

"You know th' X-Men? My condolences." Remy ordered another beer for John and settled his tab. The sun was just starting to set and he needed to get back. He focused his attention on finishing his pint. "I have had a run in with the Wolverine."

"See, I didn't think he was so bad. He sprang me from the MRD a while back. Now, _his_ dialogue's a cinch: 'Grrr, Mardis. Bub, Growl.'"

"That is uncannily accurate."

"I pride myself on my characterizations."

"And so you should." Remy set down his glass. "Well, been a pleasure talkin' to you, John, but I have got to get goin' or I will be late for an important business engagement. Unless you and your enforcement friends are plannin' on stoppin' me." He smiled wryly, gesturing to the corner booth.

To their credit, both Cess and Seamus tried to look innocuous. They were just terrible at it. "Nah, you're alright." The corner of John's mouth curved up as he handed him back the deck. "If you're ever back in Genosha, Remy, look me up. We'll go for a pint."

Remy fanned the cards, returning the lopsided grin. "Deal."

"Ugh, pun. You're as bad as Cessily." John thumbed in their direction.

"The redhead?"

"Yessir."

"She the girlfriend you were talking about?"

"God no."

"Well, then there is someone else I would not mind lookin' up next time I am in Genosha." Remy winked, and headed for the door.

"Easy, tiger." John lifted his glass to his back. "Later."

"Salut."

Cessily hit John hard in the arm when he returned to the table. "_'God no?'_ Nice Allerdyce, you're a real charmer. And would it have killed you to give him my number?"

"Dunno. Didn't want to risk it though. Just in case."

Seamus cleared his throat, waving a bill. "Kincaid, this single twenty is getting lonely over here. I believe you owe me another."

Cessily opened her wallet and handed over the money. She then proceeded to punch John for a second time. "You just had to go and make a friend and ruin my spread too, didn't you?"

"Gee Cess," John deadpanned, "It's such a wonder you don't have a boyfriend."

"I'll hit you for that later when you're sober and I know you'll really feel it."

"I'm sober!" To be honest, three beers in just under an hour had left John with more than a bit of a buzz.

"Sure John, that's why you were weaving on the way over here."

"The patio is very uneven. It's quite the hazard. I have half a mind to report this place to the Public Health department."

"Uh-huh."

Seamus frowned thoughtfully. "She's probably right though, John. You maybe shouldn't go back to work. We'll cover for you." He got out his radio, making an elaborate shushing motion. "Senyaka? Melloncamp."

Static crackled over the speaker. "Go ahead."

"Allerdyce is going to go home for the day. He's feeling sick."

"Twenty-four lager flu." John elbowed Cessily as she whispered louder than was decent.

"Ten-four."

Seamus pocketed his radio. "Want us to give Tabby a call to give you a ride home?"

"Nah, I'll walk." John tapped his nose conspiratorially. "Don't want her to know."

"It's nice you have such an open and honest relationship." Cessily snickered. "You know, I wouldn't think Tabby would mind if you'd been out for a few. I seem to remember us drinking you under the table at the company Christmas party."

"It's nice that both of your definitions of 'drinking John under the table' are broad enough to include 'passed out topless on the photocopier.' You two are real kindred spirits."

Seamus grumbled as they got up from the table. "Of all the nights to volunteer for the extra pay to watch the control room. I still can't believe no one got pictures."

"Oh, I got loads. I'm just saving them for a very special blackmail occasion."

"So why don't you call her?" Cessily pulled on her jacket as they headed for the door, John walking backwards to face them as they talked.

"Well, she won't be mad I was drinking, but Tab'll probably be cross I didn't invite her. Of course, all the couples magazines say you're not supposed to mix your work and your home life. I'm just trying to be a good man."

"Pfft, you're so whipped Allerdyce."

"I am not--" John stumbled on the lip of the door frame, colliding with someone very solid on the sidewalk. A yellow length of energy wrapped around his wrist and he found himself face to angry shrouded eyes with Senyaka. "... whipped." John's shoulders slumped as he handed his flame thrower and lighter to his supervisor. "Stupid puns'll get you every fecking time."


End file.
